


The Giving of Gifts

by ceria



Category: The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: Crematoria, Hellhounds, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceria/pseuds/ceria
Summary: Vaako has the right idea about what constitutes a courtship gift for his Lord Marshal.
Relationships: Richard B. Riddick/Vaako
Kudos: 29





	The Giving of Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently 2021 is the year I'm going to post _old_ fics I've written.
> 
> From January 2010 for the smallfandomfest on LJ. Backdated to post.

He lands the frigate with a deft hand twenty minutes before the sun is scheduled to rise, ignoring their suggestions to land anywhere but the landing strip, that they'd be too exposed there. Dispatching two teams toward the gate, he waits inside for them to check the small hanger before sliding the massive doors apart. 

"If you lose the gate, we'll lose our lives." They're competent enough that nothing else needs said and he rolls his eyes at their nervous expressions. They'd obviously heard the rumors about the last time they'd come near this place and how few of them returned.

Guns slung across his body, he enters the unlit tunnel with only one Necromonger at his heels; the Commander who is carrying the peace offerings possibly (probably) necessary.

It smells of death and decay. Naked bones, nibbled clean by whatever lived in the long stretch of tunnel, cover the ground. Though no boots or clothes lay about--at least some of the prisoners are smart.

Brushing aside webs of dust from a panel on the wall, he fiddles with switches until a motor whines, the floor creaking near the frigate before rolling back and underneath the hanger to reveal a sled. Bones skitter across the hatch and into the dark as it opens. He kicks the remaining bones aside and jumps into the hold, rigging the sled to run again, sending his shadow back to the frigate more than once for the necessary parts. 

Another hour and they're on their way. He taps his foot to the rhythm of overhead lights, discarding various plans during the short ride. Nothing seems solid and he's not in favor of _no_ plan, but then, this whole idea, including the First Gift he expects to find here in Crematoria, is reckless. 

They reach the demolished control room and he holds up one hand for the Necromonger behind him to wait. Someone will need to work the pulleys from the control room after he's gone below. 

"Don't get yourself killed," he mutters as he reaches for the chain, tugging on it before descending into the bowels of the slam. Once he reaches the bottom he shakes the chain and steps out of the way as one of the bags falls. 

It's unlike the Basilica here; there's a shuffle of feet in the dark corners from what he assumes must be the surviving prisoners. Water drips in a steady stream that sounds more like a man pissing than something to drink. A breeze whistles through the tunnels but otherwise everything is silent. It's been a long time since he heard such stillness.

Something whizzes past his head but he doesn't flinch and the thin spear clatters against the rock ten paces away from him. The angle of the spear is wrong if they are aiming directly for him. He has another couple minutes to hold their curiosity.

"I'm looking for something," he says, his words loud and slow. "I have food in exchange for whoever helps me find it."

Silence for several minutes and he wonders if he should take to the shadows and just search himself, but someone coughs and he turns to his left as a reedy voice calls out, "What's his name?" 

" _It_. Not him. I want the remaining hellhounds. If they're still living." Of course they must be living; it's doubtful prisoners are capable of killing them. 

They take their time to decide if he's crazy but that's all right. He remains still while at least four voices whisper back and forth. More feet shuffle around and at first he thinks they're surrounding him and he shifts, raising his left arm to his head as distraction while releasing the safety on his gun with right hand. 

No, they are not preparing an attack. They are moving away from a tunnel on his right, easing their way around the shadows so he can travel without seeing any of them. Crouching down, he opens the bag, the scent of bread and fresh-cooked meat wafting out of it. He pulls out a smaller bag and hefts it over his shoulder, backing away toward the tunnel. 

Eyes adjusted now to the low light, he waits at the entrance of the tunnel and watches ten men scurry out of the dark. They push someone forward who reaches into the bag with a trembling hand, shoving little tiny bites of bread and meat into his mouth. Most of them shuffle closer, but one man raises a hand and watches the little one eat for five whole minutes before indicating it should be safe. As soon as they eat, they'll think clearly enough to realize that he must have arrived by ship and if he doesn't live through his introduction to the hounds, then they might be stupid enough to try and take it.

Vaako grins to himself. Let them try. The tranquilizers in one of his guns will work on humans as well as animals. He fades into the shadows, his dark clothing blending with the cave walls. He misses his armor even as he realizes it wouldn't have helped him. Now that he's seen the desperate situation of the prisoners, the armor could have been bartered, but a prize that great would cost him his life.

The further away he gets from the center of the prison where fresh water and open air move, the stronger the scent of lingering death and decay. He steps over two stripped canine skeletons, scales littered around and crunching beneath his feet. That couldn't have been an easy meal for the prisoners, no matter how desperate they must be. 

The silence gives way to the echo of growls as he walks. Perfect silence is necessary sometimes, but this is not one of those times. He scuffs his boots along the rock, listening as growls become snarls and rattling metal as the hounds catch his scent. Someone has managed to catch them in a small enclosed area, even if the bones in the corner probably mean they didn't survive their own plan. A sacrifice of one for the sake of many - which meant it was poorly planned. Rocks and broken crates hold the cage shut. Apparently no one wanted to get close enough to the bars to latch the door. The two larger dogs snarl and drool, climbing over each other, rattling the cage, snapping their teeth at empty air while the third one crouches, staring at Vaako. The male lifts his nose, sniffing the air, snapping his jaws at the other two; catching their ears until they settle on the ground at his feet. 

Surprisingly, this portion of the plan works; at least one of the hounds recognizes the scent of Riddick's sweat from borrowed clothes. But that is the point of this, to see if the hellhounds remembered what the breeder named Kyra had told him when she joined him on his frigate months ago. What had been the largest gamble in this crazy plan to help Riddick becomes a surety.

They tense as Vaako gets closer but the male snaps his tail, catching them in the tender area near their eyes. He pulls crates and rocks out of the way while the male hound stares at him, body quivering, the varying shades of red rippling faster and faster across the scales and ridges of its body. 

Vaako gets the door open and waits to see what the male will do, guns still slung across his shoulders. The hellhound snarls and moves closer, stretching his muzzle through the open door, pushing his nostrils into Vaako's stomach, whiffing again. Vaako forces his hands to remain open and at his side, refusing to reach for the nearest gun.

The male backs up, standing over the two bitches, nipping their ears again as one makes to rise. Without unslinging gun or tranquilizer, Vaako enters the cell, dropping the bag of food. One of the females whines and Vaako slowly crouches to open the bag, pulling out the wrapped slabs of meat.

It's fresh, caught alive four days ago and brought aboard his frigate, one of them butchered this morning by himself while waiting in orbit for the horizon to approach the landing strip. Blood drips across his fingers as he throws three slabs onto the ground and stands, leaning against the far wall of the cave as the hounds sniff it, the thinnest bitch pushing at it with her nose while staring at the male. He takes a bite and woofs, the meat disappearing in seconds. 

The larger bitch gets to her feet and shuffles closer, moving too slow to be thinking about eating him. She pushes her nose into his stomach, then lower and he flinches, but doesn't move. He's survived decades as a Necromonger. It's tempting to laugh that he's more afraid of an animal than his own people. She sniffs again, licking the blood from Vaako's fingers. It's disturbing to see those fangs part and dark tongue wind around his fingers. Pushing away from the wall once she's done he walks out, his hand brushing across her back - mostly to wipe off the saliva. 

All three hellhounds follow him from the cage. The male pauses at the end of the tunnel, the females flanking him, growling into the open room. Vaako cannot see any of the prisoners but he doesn't hesitate. Once he reaches the chain he shakes it and it begins grinding, lowering from the broken control room into the prison. 

He catches a glimpse of movement and only has a second to react to the whistle of yet another spear. He ducks, pulling his gravity gun from his shoulder for the first time. Apparently their curiosity has run out.

"My soldiers will blow up my frigate if I do not return to them," he says calmly into the darkness. "I am Vaako, First Among Commanders to the Necromongers. If you desire freedom and are willing to Convert, I will take you with me."

There's mumbling in the dark but no one comes forward. It would be easier if people understand what he offers. It isn't as though these prisoners can get off this rock _without_ his help. Someone screams and rushes him and Vaako doesn't even turn even. The attacker scrabbles over loose rocks, probably wearing boots too large for him from the sound of it. Vaako ducks, shoving the sharp knife on another gun into the air, watching while it slices through the man's gut as he falls. 

"I will kill all of you if I need to. I cannot imagine you wish to die when you're so close to freedom."

"Enough!" Someone yells in the darkness and Vaako turns to face him. The same man melts away from the shadow, his body taking form as the prisoner who distributed the food. "What do you want with them howlers?"

"They are a gift," Vaako replies. It's not a secret from his Commander who must be listening, and it won't remain a secret once he returns to the Legion. Riddick is far from subtle. The hounds remain in the tunnel unfortunately. It would be nice if they guarded his back. After all, he did free them. 

"I've 'eard of you Necros," someone else says, his voice shrill with fear. "You kill everyone."

"Do I look dead to you?" Vaako asks and no one replies. "My gift is not conversation; there is little I can say to persuade you except that you will find a freedom, and food, on our ships that this planet cannot give you."

"What 'appened to the man - the shine job - who fought you?"

"He leads us." The worst part of this truth is that it is unbelievable. Even to Vaako it sounds as though he lies to make them follow him. The stutter of laughter confirms it.

The winch stops spinning as it reaches the ground and Vaako backs up, letting go of his gun to grasp the chain with one hand and raises the other to his mouth to whistle. More rocks are sliding across the ground behind him, but Vaako also knows the hellhounds are approaching. He can hear their claws clicking, getting closer to him than whoever is sneaking up behind him.

The man speaking to him backs up a step, his eyes wide as something slams to the ground behind Vaako. There's a brief snarl and the unmistakable gurgling of blood. The male trots toward Vaako, nuzzling his hand and Vaako laughs, slapping it between the ears. 

"Thank you, beautiful."

No one else approaches Vaako now that the three hounds are close and he steps onto the platform. The hellhounds hover at his feet, pressing against his legs.

"I'll lower this again once we're on top. You are free to join us. You cannot consider this hell hole freedom."

He shakes the chain again and the winch spins, hand-turned gears grinding loudly in the silence. 

The man still stands his ground as Vaako rises. It's a shame they've chosen not to follow; they are hardy to survive on their own in this hell and the Necromongers would gain from their Choice. But Vaako is not a Purifier to convince them or force them to convert. Maybe he could suggest the Legion turn toward Crematoria next; Riddick would comprehend the benefit of bringing these prisoners into his army.

Braden waits in the control room; he's already unwrapped three more steaks for the hounds, these laced with a mild sedative until Vaako has them aboard his frigate. While the hounds eat, Vaako puts the remaining food from the second bag onto the platform and lowers it a final time. No one rattles the chain once it stops moving.

~ * ~ 

He returns early in the morning before most Necromongers wake. Walking through the dark halls of the Basilica it's almost silent, except for the constant hum of machinery and creaking of metal and he smirks, thinking of Crematoria and everything he couldn't hear.

Why would someone choose to remain a prisoner on such a world? It isn't freedom, and the choice of staying isn't more than an option to choose where to die. Nor are they dying as free men trapped below the surface like that. He shrugs; it's their loss, not his, unless Riddick chooses to go back for them.

Braden doesn't leave the frigate, preferring to remain behind locked doors until Vaako disembarks with the three hellhounds. Another reason he's returned this early is to let them walk freely through the corridors. Someone will have to teach them manners and Vaako doubts it will be the Lord Marshal. Boundaries are necessary; most likely they will have to be taught to harm no one on the ship as long as the Necromongers - or anyone else - don't harm the Lord Marshal in return. It shouldn't be too difficult a lesson to teach.

The male raises his head, sniffing the air, the two bitches crowding around him. Vaako hesitates. It's unlikely he's caught a fresh scent though Riddick tends to sleep only a few hours per day, always varying the times. Something he says he learned from too many slams.

He pats the spikes and the red tinge fades beneath his hand. "Go on," he mumbles, giving the crazy thing free rein. He's still not in his armor; his tread much more silent than the clicking claws of the three hounds running before him. 

One of the females pauses at a crossing but the male continues to the right without hesitation, into the center of the Basilica. All three stop at the door, looking back over their haunches at Vaako, as if asking permission. That is unexpected. He wades between them, the spikes poking at his thighs even though it doesn't hurt. 

Riddick is alone, not a surprise this early in the morning, pushing three-dimensional planets around the extrusion map. It's the next closest star system from what little Vaako can see around Riddick's back and he nods in approval for the idea. They'd discussed two different options but this one seems to have the better military and the Legion has been bored for too long.

He waves a hand and the hellhounds surge into the room, claws clicking against the deck. Belatedly he wonders if the sound will remind Riddick of the dark world where he'd originally met Kyra and Vaako grins. That can't be a pleasant memory.

Riddick's response of pulling a knife from his belt is typical; though the room going dark is a surprise. At one point, they'd discussed moving the environmental controls though Vaako hadn't known Riddick carried through with the idea. It takes Vaako a minute of blinking to relocate Riddick and the hounds.

Which means he misses Riddick's initial reaction to the hellhounds. A shame. By the time he can focus again, Riddick is crouching, the male pushing against his side as Riddick pounds on its back, his other hand tugging on the number five tag in its ear. The females are on the ground, waiting for their mate.

The irony of the scene isn't lost on Vaako so he waits at the door until Riddick approaches him, one of the bitches returning to Vaako's side, the spikes ripping the fabric of his black clothing. Something will have to be done about that.

It's easy enough to ignore the grin on Riddick's face even though the corners of his own mouth turn up as well. 

"Are you back then?" Riddick asks without stopping.

There are deep circles beneath Riddick's goggles and he hasn't pushed them onto his forehead, keeping his eyes hidden. "You look terrible, have you slept?" Vaako falls in line with his Lord Marshal.

Riddick shrugs, which probably means _very little_. "Let's go feed these monsters then you can address the Commanders about our next stop while I sleep." It's a typically blunt reply and change of subject. Vaako rolls his eyes. 

"They like you," Riddick says minutes later, pointing at the third hellhound walking next to Vaako. 

"They didn't try to kill me, not even once." 

"They must be smarter than the Necros around here then." 

"It will make them think twice, I'm sure." He knows how his former wife, the Commanders and the rest of the Elite will perceive the First Gift. 

"I don't need your protection, Vaako."

Except Riddick does even if he's too stubborn to admit it. The Commanders think it too strange the new Lord Marshal will not accept a Necromonger wife. Vaako, free of marriage himself due to her too-obvious schemes, doesn't want another either. Which means new tactics. 

"Consider it a favor for myself then."

"Not in the mood for another viper in your bed, are you?"

He takes a deep breath before answering, Riddick's idea of humor really does annoy him. 

"Okay," Riddick says before Vaako calms enough to speak. How strange, giving in is not a trait Riddick normally possesses. "It's not a bad plan if it keeps me from being saddled with a wife and you free to be my First."

"You won't regret it," Vaako says.

Riddick turns around, walking backwards, pushing his goggles up to meet Vaako's gaze while smiling. "Probably not - but you might."


End file.
